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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30129279">Unfolding</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealgreenhealingbeam/pseuds/tealgreenhealingbeam'>tealgreenhealingbeam</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The End of The End of the World [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>HLVRAI - Fandom, Half-Life VR but the AI is Self-Aware - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Love's a lot like bread. Yes I will elaborate.), (Teen rated for language and some themes), Bread, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Multi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:48:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,483</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30129279</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealgreenhealingbeam/pseuds/tealgreenhealingbeam</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eventually, both Benrey and Tommy take notice of how Gordon's been folding and unfolding the same shirt for a solid minute.<br/>"Is everything okay, Gordon?"<br/>"Fine, it's... it's fine," he eventually gets out, but when his sentence ends in a sniffle, and they can see his hands shaking visibly, shirt clutched tight in his fists, Benrey and Tommy are thinking that it's probably actually not fine.<br/>---<br/>Gordon has a hard time getting through the laundry.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Benrey/Gordon Freeman, Benrey/Gordon Freeman/Tommy Coolatta, Benrey/Tommy Coolatta, Gordon Freeman/Tommy Coolatta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The End of The End of the World [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2281607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Unfolding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Content warnings in rough chronological order: Brief mention of very light self-harm, fairly descriptive self-hating thoughts.<br/>If you need a warning added, or otherwise think one should be added, please let me know!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
  <p>    It's a late Sunday afternoon, and as the sun is starting to set, it soaks warm light throughout Gordon's living room. Benrey's playing Little Big Planet on Gordon's profile, going back through all the levels to grab stickers and secrets he missed. Tommy's sitting at their right, occasionally setting their phone down and picking up a controller when Benrey needs them for multiplayer segments. Gordon's sitting across from them in an armchair, reading and sometimes glancing up and watching their progress through the game. Another short while passes before he sets his book on the coffee table and heads down the hall, returning with a basket nearly overflowing with laundry, sitting both it and himself on the floor in front of the TV.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    Eventually, both Benrey and Tommy take notice of how Gordon's been folding and unfolding the same shirt for a solid minute.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "You good, man?" Benrey asks.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "Huh? Yeah, yeah, just distracted."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    Fair enough, so Benrey drops it, and Tommy returns to the puzzle on his phone. Another five minutes pass, and Gordon's fussing over a different shirt now, folding it, being unsatisfied with the uneven edges, hurriedly unfolding it, and then staring at it, or through it, from where it sits crumpled in his lap before he tries again, and the cycle repeats. When he heaves a clipped sigh, Tommy scoots to the edge of the couch.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "Everyth- is everything okay, Gordon?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "Fine, it's... it's fine," he eventually gets out, but when his sentence ends in a sniffle, and they can see his hands shaking visibly, shirt clutched tight in his fists, Benrey and Tommy are thinking that it's probably actually <em>not</em> fine.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    Tommy moves to sit beside Gordon on the floor, and Benrey's right behind her. Tommy carefully pulls the shirt from his grasp and sets it back atop the basket. Gordon shudders, his emptied hands clutching onto each other instead and strength of his prosthetic rapidly changing the color of the skin beneath its fingertips.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "Whoa, hey, hey. Gonna hurt yourself," Benrey murmurs, carefully pulling his right hand off his left and holding it in theirs. Gordon's trembling diminishes ever so slightly once they start tracing soothing circles on his arm.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "Can you tell us what's... what's going on?" Tommy asks softly.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    Gordon tenses at the question, and a good minute passes before he speaks.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "I- it's... it's fucking <em>pathetic</em>, guys."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "No, no," Tommy soothes. "It's something that's- that's bothering you. Big or small or something in between, it's hurting you. What it's- what it is doesn't matter. The scope of it doesn't matter, I mean. No matter what it is, if there's something we could, um... we can do about it, we want to know."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    Benrey only nods and presses closer to Gordon's side, resting their head on his shoulder.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "It's just... everything feels like some massive fucking undertaking. <em>Everything.</em> I'll put off doing even the small shit, like fuckin'- brushing my hair or cleaning up the coffee table-- things I <em>like</em> doing. And doing dishes- it sometimes-- it takes me half an hour and I don't know why, y'know? And- and now with the laundry, it's like my head's not completely here, or it is here, and it's just- it's going in a hundred different directions. I can't even focus on something so small..." He pauses to laugh, bitter and hollow.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "There's just <em>so fucking much. </em>All the time. It feels like there's so many separate, tiny parts just... just in being alive that it just-- I keep wishing I could just put everything on pause. But if I step back, then nothing'll get done, or it'll b- it'll be left to the two of you, and I've already done that so much this week, and I'm so fucking sorry, and it--"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "Gordon, hey. Hey. It's okay," Benrey cuts in.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "No! No, it's not! I can't do fuckin' anything! It's- it's--!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "I know you know this, even if it doesn't f- feel like it right now, but you- these little hang-ups aren't <em>you,"</em> Tommy interrupts his spiral. "Something- something you can't do today can be something you have no problems with a week from now. So please... it's unfair to not give yourself the room for things to- to be hard."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "I can't just keep leaving it all to the both of you!" he erupts. "It's- it's not right, man! I can- I should be able to do it, it's nothing! So why can't I? I don't... it doesn't make sense!" Gordon gets to his feet with the idea of pacing out some frustrated energy, but he stands far too quickly, and his head is suddenly awash in static. Benrey's almost immediate in standing and catching him by the shoulders before he stumbles back and crashes onto his coffee table.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "Gordon... have you even eaten today, man?" Benrey asks once they're both lowered to the floor, Gordon splayed out across their folded legs.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>   Gordon only shakes his head in reply and curls up tighter in their lap, hiding his face in their shoulder.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "Not mad. Worried," they clarify, tucking a curl behind his ear. "Feels bad, knowing you're hurting and not takin' care of yourself."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "Sorry," Gordon rasps.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "Don't be. Listen, it's- sometimes, even for the small stuff, you just need the help. I've needed it. Tommy's needed it. You never- you don't get mad when we need you. So why would <em>we </em>be mad with <em>you?"</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p>    <em>Because you should be. Because I don't deserve the patience, </em>Gordon's mind instantly conjures the answer, but he knows that would only upset them both, so he says nothing.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "If we're in a good place, and we can help, we want to," Tommy breaks the silence. "We do it because you- we know you would do the same, and you will. The next bad day, or week, either of us have, you'll be there helping us do what we can't, because you love us. And we love you! You don't ever need to feel like you're on your own. Even when pairing up the socks," Tommy finishes with a kiss to his temple, leaning a hand over the basket to grab a handful of mismatched socks. Gordon huffs out a quiet laugh, curling up further against Benrey while they lean over for the shirt Gordon struggled with.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    "Always right here," they murmur, kissing the top of his head while setting the shirt aside and going for another.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    A smile spreads across Gordon's face despite the guilt that lies beneath the surface, and he shuts his eyes. Benrey's warm and comfortable to lay against, and Tommy's humming a soft song in between quick kisses for the both of them, and maybe, maybe this is fine. Maybe he can just let himself be taken care of.  Maybe he can just trust in how much he's loved.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    Maybe he can be gently carried to the couch after he's started to doze off, and curl up against Tommy while Benrey fixes him a late lunch in the kitchen. Then, maybe he can be carefully shaken awake, and barely keep his eyes open long enough to finish the sandwich on the bread Tommy and Benrey made together, surprised him with when he got back from the store yesterday. Maybe the burnt edges and the odd shape of the loaf were more perfect than Gordon could have ever anticipated.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    Maybe, Gordon thinks, their love's a bit like the bread. It has its problem spots where it crumbles under any touch, parts that are unmistakably burnt, beyond salvaging. And maybe it's perfect that way. Maybe it crumbles so easily because it's wonderfully soft bread, and maybe the burnt bits actually taste just fine, and maybe, the bread is more than the sum of its parts. Maybe it's unfair to summarize it on its faults. Maybe it would be unfair to do that with their relationship. Maybe it's unfair for Gordon to do that to himself.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    He has a hard time believing that last one, but after Benrey lays a massive blanket across the three of them, and resumes the game with Tommy while both lay against him, speaking soft comforts and singing in low voices, and Benrey's hoodie still smells like baking bread, and Tommy's as warm as the loaf was when taken from the oven, he's willing to try and believe in something better. Something more than the sum of his parts.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    Bread, love, and overcoming self-hatred. Three things that take time. Three things that take work. Three things that are worth the effort. No two people would he rather experience it all with than the two at his sides, lulling him to sleep with gentle insistence.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>    Maybe, Gordon tells himself that he's just going to close his eyes for a bit, and maybe, Benrey and Tommy will let him sleep all the way until dinner. And maybe that's okay. Maybe, it'll all be okay.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was super self-indulgent (as all my writing has been), but to that I say: It's MY mental illness and I get to write fanfiction where I project onto Gordon Freeman. I hope that this is still OK despite it being written with me in mind. I hope it's not too cheesy! With every piece of writing, it becomes more clear exactly how much I'm yearning. I've dug my sad, gay little grave, and you're all welcome to come lay down with me.<br/>Anyway! If you ever have ideas or requests, I can't guarantee I'll do them, but I'd still love to hear them! Either in the comments or sent to my HLVRAI sideblog- peeperpuppyden! </p><p>I'm currently working on a HLVRAI animatic that's currently taking up a lot of my time, so if writing uploads are spaced out, that would be why. I'll try not to be away too long, though- I still have things I wanna write! (By the by, I upload progress posts on the animatic every now and then. You can find those on my art blog at pumpkinrings!)<br/>Bye for now!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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